Travelling Needs
by Yaoi's Consort
Summary: While Eragon and Nar Garzhvog are travelling, Garzhvog feels a stirring in his lower regions while he watches Eragon. My first time writing this kind of fic, so please be nice to me!
1. Chapter 1

Travelling Needs

Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! It's me again! Yaoi's Consort, bringing you guys another messed-up fic derived from my sick, insane self! This one is about; you guessed it, Nar Garzhvog and Eragon! I've been re-reading the Inheritance Series, and I've just been fangirling like mad over this! I might try a Galbatorix x Eragon story next, but for now, enjoy this, ya sick children!**

**Warnings: Yaoi (Homosexual Love), slight kink (maybe :P), PWP, and extreme size differences.**

**Summary: While Eragon and Nar Garzhvog are travelling, Garzhvog feels a stirring in his lower regions (as in his genitals XD) while he watches Eragon.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I feel like I'm majorly plagiarizing here, because all the dialogue is the same as in the book(Really I feel more like I'm paraphrasing through most of it); this is taken from page 385 to page 398 of the third book of The Inheritance Series, _Brisingr._**

**Enjoy, my children!**

Garzhvog growled as he watched the Dragon Rider, much like an elf, sprint beside him, two of the smaller's equaling one of his own bounding steps. They had only begun travelling the day before, and already the cravings were growing out of control.

Ever since he had first laid eyes on the prodigious youth, he had been struck by his grace and femininity, so much like an elven woman's. He had already sired a number of healthy rams with his mate, but this…human—no, Rider—had awakened a hungering deep within him that he was already quite familiar with—lust.

Normally, he would have rushed home to his mate and taken her, but in this chaos, and with his kinsmen still here fighting for the Varden, he could not do so. So he had tried to avoid the boy, spending most of his nights in his tent, trying to get rid of the feeling of the boy's cautious eyes watching him. This always led to his eventual self-pleasuring, and he loathed himself for it.

He would attempt to avoid the Dragon Rider as much as possible, but he always managed to find himself close to the boy nonetheless, whether it be eating, at council with Lady Nightstalker, or even to relieve himself!

He had even caught the boy after the fight with the grinning ghouls. He had been taking a bath, if you could even call It that—the smooth, white expanse of skin, covered in gore, being cleansed with cool water that caused said person to gasp slightly and shiver. Unfortunately the Kull clan leader had stayed long enough to watch it, and ended up having to sneak past most of the Varden with an erection, poorly hidden behind his loincloth, to get back to his tent.

That had ended the night, simply from the sight of the boy's naked body, with an embarrassingly large release and explosive orgasm.

Now he was running across the land with Firesword, on a journey to the dwarven city, where the graceful youth would help to choose a new king to replace the old one that had died from the cowardly magic of the red Rider.

They had set off the previous day, and had run all through the night, and that was proving to have a heavy toll on his body. The sun was setting on the horizon when they stopped. He turned to the Rider. "Firesword, I must eat, and I must sleep."

The elven youth, leaning against a stump, merely inclined his head. He looked similarly afflicted, but refused to voice his exhaustion. He opened his mouth, taking large gulps f air as he panted. Garzhvog watched, entranced with the sight of the flushed and panting Rider as he gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He wet his lips, his tongue darting out briefly, and then said, "I will help you hunt."

The large Urgal merely shook his head. "That is not needed. Make us a big fire, and I will bring us food."

The boy appeared to pout slightly at that, but gave in. "Fine."

The large Urgal hurried off, sporting a rather indecent display of arousal. He took care of it first, feral grunts dripping off his lips as he thought of Firesword, quickly finishing in his hand. He wiped it off on one of the many birch trees in the area, and went off to hunt.

He quickly found a herd of deer, all of them plump and healthy. He slowly stalked his prey, pulling his sling out to prepare to get one of the large doe that had strayed from the rest of the herd.

He picked up a stone off the ground, loaded his weapon, and swung it over his head a few times. Without warning, he let the deadly missile fly, hitting the doe right between the eyes, killing it instantly. The rest of the herd panicked, running away from the body of the fallen doe.

After the herd had dispersed, he went over to his prey, slinging it over his shoulder. He made his way back to the camp that Eragon had set up, a roaring fire crackling in front of him. He sat down beside him, pulling out a knife and commenced to clean the deer.

The Urgal glanced up as the boy stood, massaging his muscles. His almond-shaped eyes glanced at him, and Garzhvog felt his body heat up at the intense stare.

"How did you kill it?"

"With my sling."

"Do you intend to cook it on a spit? Or do Urgals eat their meat raw?"

The clan leader felt his temper flare at the statement, glaring at the boy. "We are not beasts, Firesword."

He looked slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. "I did not say you were."

Garzhvog simply grunted, returning to the task of cleaning the deer in front of him.

After a few minutes, the boy spoke up again. "It will take too long to cook on a spit."

Garzhvog grunted again, then replied, "I thought a stew, and we can fry what is left on a rock."

Firesword looked puzzled. "Stew? How? We don't have a pot."

Garzhvog smirked slightly, rubbed his hand against the ground, and took out his bear's stomach from his pack. He tossed it to the boy.

He missed, though, seemingly from fatigue. He reached down to grab it, and appeared confused as it opened. "What is it?"

The Kull grinned, showing off his teeth as he began talking. "The stomach of a cave bear I killed the year I first got my horns. Hang it from a frame or put it in a hole, then fill it with water and drop stones on it. Stones heat water, and stew tastes good." He stated simply.

"Won't the stones burn through the stomach?" Firesword asked.

"They have not yet."

"Is it enchanted?"

Garzhvog huffed. "No magic. Strong stomach." He grunted as he broke the doe's hips, splitting the breastbone with his dagger.

Eragon gazed at him in awe. "It must have been a big bear."

Garzhvog chuckled deeply, creating a _ruk-ruk _sound deep in his throat. "It was bigger than I am now, Shadeslayer."

"Did you kill it with your sling as well?"

"I choked him to death with my hands. No weapons are allowed when you come to age and must prove your courage." The Kull paused, his knife buried to the hilt in the deer carcass. "Most do not kill a cave bear. Most hunt wolves or mountain goats. That is why I became war chief and others did not."

He glanced at Eragon—again with the stupid stuttering of his heart!—and watched the male dig a hole, put the stomach in it, while he commenced to prepare the meat, cutting it into reasonable chunks.

He swiveled his head when he heard Eragon say the rocks were ready, and told him to put them into the stomach, which he had filled with water. The water sizzled, coming to a boil as more stones were added. Garzhvog added the meat, along with a variety of herbs and seasonings. He placed a piece of shale beside the fire, and roasted strips of the doe on it.

They carved themselves spoons from a stump, the Kull watching him closely as his fingers danced across the wood, peeling away strips of wood to form a rough spoon. Once the food was ready, they ate. Garzhvog shivered slightly as Firesword took his first bite from the stew, eyes widening as an involuntary moan of pleasure escaped his throat. The youth was not aware of it, but this was part of the courting ritual for Urgals—finding there beloved food and serving it to them.

After the meal, the Kull cleaned his teeth with one of the thighbones, watching the human-elf crossbreed closely. He was looking at him curiously, and the Nar's breath hitched as he watched the male sweep his eyes over his bulk. He watched as his eyes widened slightly, a mischievous glow decorating their depths. He raised an eyebrow at what could have amused him so much.

"The dwarves have the same number of toes as you do," he commented.

He glanced down at his toes, than spit a piece of gristle out into the fire. "I did not know that. I have never wanted to look at the feet of a dwarf."

The boy gazed at him inquisitively. "Don't you find it curious that Urgals and dwarves should both have fourteen toes, while elves and humans have ten?"

Garzhvog snarled at the comparison. "We share no blood with those hornless mountain rats, Firesword. They have fourteen toes, and we have fourteen toes. It pleases the gods to shape us so when they created the world. There is no other explanation."

The Rider grunted, turning away to watch the flames dance. Garzhvog took this chance to examine the prodigal youth further. He had thin eyes and pointed ears, like an elf. His hair seemed to glow, like an ethereal halo, as is shone with the light of the flames. His body, slender but still strong, had supported him through this age of war and bloodshed so far. Garzhvog growled at the thought of someone touching that perfect expanse of creamy flesh, marring the surface and causing pain to his mate—eh?

Garzhvog started slightly when Eragon abruptly met his eyes, capturing him in their depth. "Tell me a story your race is fond of, Nar Garzhvog."

**I was planning on a oneshot…doesn't look like it's even going to be a twoshot, or even a threeshot…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Meh, I know. I'm lazy. Short chappie.**

Garzhvog, still slightly startled, pondered upon which story he would tell him. He decided to tell him the story of Maghara, and spoke to the Rider, spinning the tale as he watched, entranced by the passion the Urgal could put into the words. After the story, Eragon remained quiet for a time, and then asked, "Tell me something about your villages."

"What?"

"Anything. I experienced hundreds of memories while I was in your mind and in Khagra's and in Otvek's, but I can recall only a handful of them, and those imperfectly. I am trying to make sense of what I saw."

Garzhvog rumbled quietly, "There is much I could tell you." He gazed at his hands, and lifted his makeshift toothpick up to his mouth, where he began picking his teeth. Then he told the boy of how they created poles with the faces of animals to keep evil spirits away, and how they hung namnas* across the doorways of their huts, and how they described the history of the family that resided there.

The boy listened, captivated, as he told him about the how mated Urgals wove hearth rugs, and how it could take five years, or more, for it to be completed and help to determine if you had chosen a good mate.

After he had told him all this, the Rider's face darkened as he opened his mouth to speak. "How is it you learned this language, Garzhvog? Was there a human who lived among you? Did you keep any of us as slaves?"

The Kull felt his anger flare again as he held Eragon's sharp gaze. "We have no slaves, Firesword. I tore the knowledge from the minds of the men I fought, and I shared it with the rest of my tribe."

"You have killed many humans, haven't you?"

"You have killed many Urgralgra*, Firesword. It is why we must be allies, or my race will not survive." Garzhvog reluctantly said, unwilling to show weakness of any kind.

**~Now I just get lazy and start paraphrasing.~**

Eragon crossed his arms across his slender chest. "When Brom and I were tracking the Raz'ac, we passed through Yazuac, a village by the Ninor River. We found all the people there dead, with a speared baby on the top of the pile. It was the most terrible thing I've ever seen. And Urgals were the one responsible for the heinous deed."

Garzhvog felt a stab of pity and compassion in his heart, but quenched it quickly, telling his own story of how his father had taken him to a village in the western Spine, and how they had found a village, burnt, with corpses littering the ground, covered in terrible wounds. Narda men had learned the location, and slaughtered everyone.

His voice stuttered slightly as he told him all this, but he kept going, telling him how battle was glorious and that there was no other joy, but that his race was still aware of its flaws, and that Galbatorix would kill them all if he defeated the Varden. "Am I not right, Firesword?" he said afterwards.

Eragon dipped is head in a sharp nod. "Aye."

"It does us nothing to dwell on past wrong. If we can't overlook these things, there will never be peace between our races."

"What about after Galbatorix is defeated? If you get your land, your children will simply engage in more violence to win mates, and your hard work will be for nothing."

Garzhvog sighed heavily. "Then we hope the Urgralgra that live across the ocean are wiser than us, and continue to thrive."

After that, no more words were spoken, and they went to sleep. But in his waking dreams, Eragon could here knitting needles, like Gertrude, but louder, and more hesitant, like the person knitting didn't know have as much experience doing so as Gertrude did. It was comforting, but also unnerved him. Was this a dream? And if so, where had he heard it?

The next morning they began running again, and could see the Boer Mountains by the end of the day. They didn't stop that night, instead running through the night and into the next day.

***Urgralgra-the name the Urgals call their species.**

**AAAAAAGH, HOW FUCKING LONG IS IT GOING TO TAKE FOR ME TO GET TO THE SMEX!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**So…fucking…lazy…**

The long days and nights made the journey seem both longer and shorter than it was; the identical hours making it seem as if they were making no progress at all. When they had past the Beartooth River, they camped by a small pond, the Kull killing a large buck with his sling, from which they both ate their fill.

The immense Urgals lay down, sated, and began to drift off to sleep.

"Garzhvog."

He was awakened by the sound of Firesword's voice, low and urgent, and also slightly fearful. He bared his teeth and reached for his sling. Who dare to frighten his potential mate? He roared his challenge into the cold night air, daring anyone to come and try to harm him or his beloved.

There was a rustling in the bushes, and slowly, ever so cautiously, a Shrrg* stepped out from the forest. Garzhvog growled lowly in his throat, glancing over to Firesword. The clan chief's face became befuddled at the intensity in Eragon's eyes. He looked like he was trying to remember something…

Suddenly, his thin face lighting up, his lips parted, the musical notes of the ancient language falling from his mouth. Garzhvog tore is eyes from the sight, returning his gaze to the large gray wolf as it paused, sniffed around there camp, then snatched up the viscera littered around the camp. The monster licked its chops lazily, and then sauntered away from the camp, seemingly satisfied by the scraps.

Garzhvog remained vigilante, however, never releasing his tenseness, his readiness to spring, and his ferocity, even when his soon-to-be-mate relaxed and sheathed his weapon.

***Shrrg— giant grey wolf, if you didn't figure it out.**

**C'mon already, pounce on him!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**YES! FUCKING FINALLY!**

When the sun first started rising over the horizon, the two set off, running towards the valley that led to Mount Thardûr. As they breezed through the forest, the air cooled, and coniferous trees became more abundant, their fallen needles covering the forest floor and muffling their footsteps. As they caught sight of the valley itself, their world became narrower as they finally reached it.

The immense mountains flanking the valley gave the valley a stifling feeling, as though you were about to be crushed between the mountains.

After noon had past not but an hour ago, Garzhvog could hear a roar that made his blood boil from the memory.

A cave bear.

When Firesword asked him what it was he said it was a cave bear, and warned him of Nagra* as well. They continued, slower this time, down the valley, and they spotted the cave bear battling a few of the boars. The distance was deceiving, but Garzhvog could tell from the trees that the massive bear would be even larger than a hut and the boars would dwarf even a Shrrg.

"I think even Saphira might not be able to overcome such a monster." The elfish youth murmured behind him as they watched the bear gorge itself on one of the boars it had managed to kill.

Garzhvog grunted, believing quite the opposite. "She can breathe fire. A bear cannot."

They both continued to stare at the enormous beast until it was hidden behind the trees, but their hands stayed over their weapons, hovering, not knowing what other large and potentially dangerous situations they might find themselves in.

The pair started when they heard a sound that seemed almost completely alien to them now: laughter. They halted, Garzhvog raising a finger to his lips, and brushed aside a bush that the laughter had come from.

Garzhvog saw a well-used path, and three dwarf children, shrieking as they threw sticks at each other and laughing, large smiles on their faces. He also spotted a few plumes of chalky white smoke in the sky, only about a mile from their current location. He could not see any adults.

**~Here's where I drift away from the storyline a bit. ^_^~**

He crouched down beside his beloved, so he could look the young Rider in the eye. "Firesword, here we part." He bitterly wanted to stay with him, but he had a duty to his tribe and his race. He regretted causing the look of alarm and astonishment on the boy's face.

"You will not come to Bregan Hold with me?"

He sounded almost pleading.

"No." The Kull forced the words out. "My task was to keep you safe. If I go with you, the dwarves will not trust you as they should. Thardûr Mountain is close at hand, and I am confident no one will dare hurt you between here and there."

The boy lifted up a hand to rub his pale neck, as though embarrassed, his gaze flicking between the curling white smoke and Garzhvog's bulk. He gazed down at the prodigal youth passively, even though inside he was barely keeping himself from taking the boy then or there. That facial expression just made him want to twist it in pleasure, part those lips in a scream as he orgasmed.

"Are…are you going to run all the way back to the Varden?"

He chuckled, a deep rumbling noise deep in his body, causing the boy to shiver, and tighten his grip on his neck slightly. He pushed a rotted log on its side, exposing a mass of white maggots wiggling in the most wood; he tried to ignore the curious look that the Kull was directing towards him.

He smiled cockily. "Don't let a Shrrg or a bear eat you, eh? Then I would have to track down the beast and kill him, and I don't have time for that."

Garzhvog pressed his fists against his forehead. "May your enemies cower before you, Firesword."

**~Now it gets interesting 3. Don't read if you don't like boyxboy!~**

Turning around, Eragon took a deep breath, preparing to part the brush and head towards the group of children, when he felt muscular arms wrap around his waist. He felt hot, musty breath against his neck, and he shivered at the sensation.

"G-garzhvog?" he stuttered. "W-what-"

He was cut off by large lips enveloping his mouth, sucking like a vacuum and causing Eragon to gasp. The Kull took this chance to slip his thick tongue into his mouth, groaning at the taste of the youth's sweetness.

The Rider pushed his hands against the large chest in front of him, desperate to create distance between the two. But even with his forceful pushing, the Nar refused to let go, simply tightening his grip on the boy; he wouldn't let his prize go without getting a good taste.

Eragon squeaked in surprise as he was lifted off the ground, his hands now clutching at the chest in front of him rather than pushing it away. His eyes, which he was not aware that he closed, flew open as he felt two large hands on his ass.

He whimpered as they began to massage his butt; each hand was large enough to cover his whole lower half, but the large Urgal kept both hands on his ass, kneading the tense flesh.

Eragon, reluctantly, began to feel his body respond to the warm movement on his ass and the thick tongue (that was practically choking him, by the way) and, to put it simply, was…shocked. He knew that the Urgal leader had been watching him closely, but he never thought that it was because he was interested in_ that_ way. The Kull had never even hinted at such an intimate thing…but maybe…no. could it be? Yesterday, when they had encountered the Shrrg, Garzhvog had acted extremely aggressive, even after the wolf had left. Was he trying to protect him then? And when he had brought in that doe the first time they stopped, he had watched him intensely as he ate, as though waiting for something.

He began to moan as he tried to thrust his hips forward, his cock hardening as Garzhvog continued to stimulate him. He began to lose himself in the pleasure as he shyly returned the kiss.

And suddenly, it was gone.

The hands kneading his ass.

The tongue that was practically throat-fucking him.

And the warmth of the other's chest.

He lay there on the ground, breathless, as the Kull began to walk away.

***Nagra— giant boar.**

**I am so freaking happy right now! Finally, the smex begins~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**I really love this chapter. It is so fucking awesome—even though it seems a bit rushed to me. Enjoy!**

Garzhvog sorely wanted to go back and continue his assault on the boy, but he knew that he shouldn't rush things. The kiss had been impulsive, a show of weakness; he hated himself for it. Dammit, he should know better! He should know how to control his bodily impulses better than this! Why, at this time, had he lost control?

"W…wait!" he heard the Rider call out, low and husky from arousal. He wanted so badly to just turn around and look at the boy, one last look into his eyes before he returned to the Varden.

But he trundled on, distancing himself further from the brilliant youth that had captured his heart.

Suddenly, he felt slender, yet strong arms wrap around his waist (more like try to; they barely made it past his hips) and a voice, muffled by his back, whispering, "Wait. Won't you wait? I just…what was that? You're never very open, and that was…" he trailed off here, burying his face into Garzhvog's large back.

The Kull twisted his head around, trying to catch sight of the boy; but all he could glimpse was a red, blood filled ear. He smirked lightly; he knew the boy was blushing, embarrassed at how he had enjoyed himself.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, attempting to pick the words carefully, but the boy holding onto him was muddling his mind, so he simply thought,

_Grěŏŕż*; I'm just going to go for it._

Eragon gasped as his grip was broken, his wrists were taken captive, and he ended up staring wide-eyed into deep sunken, but alive and serious, eyes.

He gasped again as he was pulled into a tight hug, his frame trembling slightly as Garzhvog nuzzled his neck. "I love you, Firesword."

"I have since the first day I met you, when you were at Lady Nightstalker's side, almost drawing your sword to slay me if I made any gestures that you saw as threatening. I was captivated by your piercing gaze, your soft hair, and your supple body." He buried his nose deeper into the crook of Eragon's neck as it all came pouring out, causing the Rider to tip his neck to give him more room.

Eragon made no move to escape the Urgal's embrace, his trembling body gasping as Garzhvog began to nibble at his neck, not biting enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark and stimulate his young body.

"I did not intend to go this far, to tell the truth. I thought that I would simply view you from afar, and now I find myself unable to control my baser desires. It seems now that I have no choice, or so my body tells me-" at this point, he picked up the slender boy, keeping his mouth on his pale neck.

Eragon felt a chill go through him.

"—but to claim you as my own."

Eragon squeaked as Garzhvog carried him away from the group of children, away from the white smoke filling the air, and gasped as each bound caused Garzhvog to increase his attack on his body, and with his head tilted back as it was, he was able to catch sight of their destination: a cave.

Eragon found this odd, but he was also curious. Why would the Kull take him here? His silent question was answered as they journeyed further into the cave; a mass of fur—bear, wolf, boar, and some even Eragon didn't recognize—covered a section of the floor, creating a cushion against the hard rock surface.

He grunted as he was unceremoniously tossed onto the pile, but moaned as Garzhvog resumed his attack on his body, now pushing his tunic above his head and tossing it away from his body.

He cried out as Garzhvog bit and suckled on his nipples, the sensitive flesh becoming inflamed and hard as it was attacked.

Certain, _other _places were also becoming hard.

He gasped as he felt a large hand grasp his erection—when had he gotten his pants off?—and moaned at the sensation of the calloused palm going up and down on his cock, as he began to drip from the stimulation.

Garzhvog leaned back, looking at his work with appreciation. Underneath him, he had become a moaning, writhing mess, his hair billowing out slightly, his hands gripping onto the furs surrounding him. His lust-filled eyes gazed up at him, a pitiful, needy whimper falling from ravaged, plump lips. He shivered as he felt himself grow harder, if that was possible.

He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

Eragon shifted uncomfortably underneath his steady gaze. His body began to heat up even more, and he felt his skin flush. And then he gasped as he once again got that delicious friction.

And he screamed as Garzhvog went all the way down on his cock, enveloping his length in his large mouth.

He hyperventilated, the overwhelming pleasure making his eyes go wide and his voice scream until he was hoarse.

He didn't know how long Garzhvog simply continued this pleasurable torment; he just knew that after his vision had cleared, he was on his hands and knees, and he felt something wet sliding in and out of his entrance. He panted as he felt it go in further, and as it began to wiggle around inside of him, he realized it was his tongue. He stiffened, trying to pull away and push against the Kull's shoulder's weakly.

"N-no! I-it's dirty! S-stop, wai—AH!" Eragon squeaked as he felt the appendage brush up against something that made him press his hips back against Garzhvog's tongue, a pleasured groan leaking through his lips.

**~Ah ha! Kink idea! Thank you internet!~**

Garzhvog pulled away, a whine leaving Eragon at the loss of stimulation. He stiffened as he felt something else, something thin, prod at his entrance, and, seemingly satisfied, entered him slowly.

Eragon wriggled at the feeling; the object felt blunt, but sharp enough that it could penetrate him, and its texture puzzled Eragon. He tried to turn around, to see what the enormous Urgal was doing, but only caught a glimpse of Garzhvog's head, tilted at a peculiar angle. It was almost as if—

He gasped as he realized just what the thing penetrating him was. _It was one of the horns located on the head of Urgal males._ He attempted to pull away again, but the Kull had grasped his hips roughly, dragging him back as he impaled his horn deeper into Eragon's entrance.

The youth withered slightly as the horn went in further and further, stretching him almost past his breaking point. "G-garzhvog—"

"You are mine. My mate, my other half. I'm stretching you for what's to come. Bear with it for the moment."

Garzhvog growled, feeling the entrance tighten around him slightly. Urgal horns are extremely sensitive, especially during mating. They produce a sort of liquid that could be used to smooth the way for their enormous lengths—in this sense, they were monstrous.

"W-why don't you just use your fingerrrrrrrrrrrrrssss…" Eragon groaned as Garzhvog removed his horn, replacing it with one of his large, thick digits.

"I am."

The Kull slowly began to pump the digit in and out of the tight heat, biting his lip to prevent a premature release. He was so _hot _and_ tight, _Garzhvog just wanted to blow right then and there.

He kept his eyes on Firesword's face though, checking for any telltale signs of discomfort. He seemed fine, as much as one being stretched could, and Garzhvog hurriedly added another finger to his entrance.

Eragon cried out in pain as Garzhvog began to scissor him, but the noise quickly turned into a keen as he felt his vision go white; he pressed himself back onto the invading fingers, trying to get him to make his world explode once more.

Garzhvog felt his control crumble as Eragon's face transformed into that of pure bliss. The slender youth looked into his eyes with a hazy, lustful gaze.

Snap. Crack. Well, their goes his self-control right out the window—so much for going slow.

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiip._

Garzhvog tore off his loin cloth, freeing his large, pulsing erection as he roughly thrust into Eragon, groaning at the sensation of hot, velvety walls clenching down on him. Eragon cried out in agony at the sudden sheathing, feeling like he was being torn in half by the enormous length, his shriek swallowed as Garzhvog claimed his mouth, plundering his hot, wet cavern thoroughly as he stayed his motion; as much as he wanted to thrust in and out of his tight heat with abandon, he needed to give his mate time to adjust. It would make it more pleasurable for the both of them.

Eragon whimpered as the feeling of pain resided, leaving only the feeling of being completely filled, almost to the breaking point. "G-garzhvog…ah!"

The Kull began to slowly pull out, at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time only his head was inside, he asked Eragon breathlessly, "Are you alright?"

"I-I guess…" he replied, afflicted by the thousands of sensations raining down on his body.

"Than I can start moving." And with that, he buried his entire length back into Eragon.

Eragon cried out again. Garzhvog was so _big_, built like a horse; he felt as though he would break at any given moment as Garzhvog thrust back into him. But this nirvana—this overwhelming pleasure caused him to ignore the discomfort and focus only on the pleasurable thrusts that hinted at his eventual release.

Garzhvog was in a similar state of mind. Eragon was just so hot and tight, his reactions pure like that of a virgin's. Of course, he was a virgin; at least on _this _side if not on the other. He growled at the thought of another embracing his mate, thrusting in and out of Eragon, his hips pistoning back and forth as his mind went blank, and all that was left was instinct:

Bite. Mark. Thrust. In and out and in and out and in and out. Lick. Claim.

_Mine._

The Elvin youth trembled under the onslaught of sensations and feelings that were assaulting his form. This ecstasy was more than he could handle—he could feel himself drowning in pleasure…the only thing that remained constant was the sight of Garzhvog's face—deep-set eyes, large horns, one glistening and wet, and his mouth—which now appeared to be descending towards his—

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!" the Rider cried out as the Kull bit down on his neck, hard enough to break the skin; Garzhvog lapped at his blood, sucking and nibbling around the wound to create a hickey marking him as the mate and property of the enormous Urgal.

His large hand, which was capable of tearing a man in half, now grasped his erection, his calloused palm enveloping his length, and, with a quick few jerks—oh so _good, _this delicious friction! Too much, too much! The throbbing of his neck, the harsh hand pumping him, the thick cock still pounding relentlessly in his ass—drive him over the edge with a shriek of pure ecstasy.

Garzhvog grunted as the already tight passage tightened around his length, spasming and twitching uncontrollably. With a few more deep thrusts, he emptied himself into Eragon, truly marking him as his own.

Eragon shivered at the slimy sensation, shifting slightly. Garzhvog gazed down at his mate, now truly his. His cock throbbed at the sight of his marking, decorating a majority of the man's throat. Eragon stiffened as he felt Garzhvog harden inside him, causing his passage to contract slightly and pulled a groan from the larger.

"W-wait, Garzhvog! Haven't we done enough?"

"No. I need to claim you multiple times to truly solidify the fact that I am your mate."

"G-garzhvog—AH!"

Let's just say that Eragon refused Saphira's pleas to fly for a while. And he never wore anything but a thick scarf around his neck for the next three months.

**And thus it ends! I hope you guys enjoyed, cause I certainly did. I really think I might have rushed it a bit, so tell me if I missed anything! Seraphina Greene and I are working on the longest fic I've ever attempted. If you haven't already checked out her page, you'll see that the story is going to be an AU B-squared medieval story with lots of citrusy goodness! Until next time, read, review, and request bizarre pairings that you yourself love! I also accept mainstream pairings, so send me some requests! They may take some time, but I'll get them out to you! Until then, stay individual!**


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